


Son of Arachne

by Rahn (Rahndom)



Series: Justice Lords AU [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Animated), Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahndom/pseuds/Rahn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Afewnovelideas on Tumblr. </p><p>Justice Lords Au - The Justice Lords are rulers over the world. Arachne and her son will attack them from the inside, if only so they can have the other walk under a free sky one day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Son of Arachne

Tim is selecting his t-shirt carefully, comparing it to his skin and the bruises he has acquired during the last week.

He is a scrawny little thing, the faintest of touches will leave his skin black and blue and he is so small, so terribly small that he knows no one actually believes he is thirteen.

His Green Lantern T-shirt makes his skin look yellow-ish, a perfect contrast to the purple in his cheekbone.

Though…

It _is_ a Green Lantern T-shirt.

He throws it behind his back, uncaring of where it will land in his messy, teenage appropriate bedroom.

The red t-shirt his parents brought from Spain with the cartoon bull would make him look pink-ish.

Plus… Spain.

He still has the faded Superman one that is mostly grey now, the red emblem mostly faded by age, but that one would only serve to make him paler yet healthier.

“I did buy you one from that horrid television show you like, Timothy,” Janet whispers from his doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, eyes cold.

Tim blinks at her, a small smile curling his lips.

“Wendy the Werewolf Stalker,” he corrects, shaking his head and fishing inside his drawer for said shirt, smirking when he compares the military green of the cloth against his skin. “You are a goddess, mother.”

Janet sighs, her thin hands reaching to crook her son’s collar against his neck, the tips of her fingers leaving a lingering caress against his skin.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” she has to ask, because deep inside she knows Jack would never forgive her – forgive them both – if she doesn’t make sure her son is doing this out of his own free will.

Tim turns, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, hiding his face on her cold neck.

“I love you,” he whispers, enjoying the scent of her perfume. “I’ll miss you so much.”

Janet allows her arms to envelop her son, her nails digging into his shirt as if to keep him there a second longer.

“… I love you too,” she whispers back, her lips barely moving.

Tim straightens, his face a mask of worry, heartbreak and despair, his hands hold his mother’s arms with the soft tremors that his frame allows.

He bites his lips.

“Please, Mr. Grayson,” he whispers, his young voice breaking as he speaks. “Batman needs a Robin. You must come back! He needs you more than ever!”

Janet stares at her son’s face, how his hair covers his eyes yet she can easily detect the shine of tears clinging to his long eyelashes.

She nods.

Timothy nods back at her, his face never losing his concern, his fright, before he grabs his book bag from a nearby chair and dashes out of their house as fast as he can.

Ready for the mission he is about to take.

Janet watches him leave from a window, her hand idly playing with the silver chain still tied around her throat, the small snowflake shaped trinket hanging from it caressing her collarbone like a lover.

Mother and Son won’t share words of love for a long time, they both know.

They acknowledge it.

Draw pride in their own resolve because of it.

**_‘Timmy, if you are listening to this, and by god I hope you don’t have to, the worst has happened and I am gone…’_ **

Bruce stares at the teen – still a boy, smaller than Jason, younger than Jason could ever be – as he sits in front of him on the computer, his slender fingers dancing on the keyboard as he brings information no one apart from himself has been able to access with such speed.  

“Your mother has not contacted us,” he says idly, eyes set on the boy’s face, ready to spot the smallest twitch.

Tim shrugs, his mouth curling into a bitter smile.

“She won’t contact you, Mr. Wayne,” he says simply, continuing to work. “She doesn’t want to see me. She’s… angry, I think.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow.

“Angry?” he asks.

“She was never really, ah, maternal? She liked to travel, I think. I don’t have many memories of her being home, if at all,”

Dick stopped polishing his guns, his frown deep as he stared at the boy.

Bruce nodded.

“Your parents used to travel,” he commented, clearly not impressed.

“Yeah, I guessed as much,” Tim said, biting his lips. “I think it’s just…”

Dick stood from his seat, curiosity getting the better of him as he approached Tim and his defeated posture.

“Tim?” he asked, his hand resting on the boy’s shoulder.

“I think… I think she never forgave me that I don’t look like him,” Tim whispered bitterly, his hair falling onto his face, his cheeks burning with shame. “I don’t remember my dad, I never met him and now she is angry I don’t look like him, that I don’t want whatever he wanted.”

Dick and Bruce share a look over Tim’s shoulders, both trying to convey a completely different message with their eyes.

“What happened to your dad,” Dick asks.

Tim shrugs.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “Mom says he disappeared, the police said it was an accident. I never even knew him.”

Dick’s arms wrap around the boy’s shoulders, his body molding to envelop the smaller kid with all the tenderness he can muster.

Bruce looks on, his face expressionless.

In this boy he can see the potential Jason never could offer.

**_‘I… still remember when you were born. You were so tiny, so fragile and pale, like snow, you were. And I just thought: Oh, he is so beautiful. Your mother was horrified, though, she fainted when they put you in her arms and you just stared back. She was as happy as I was. Don’t let her tell you otherwise. To have you with us… that day… It was the best day of our lives.’_ **

Kon doesn’t know what to think when he and Tim are alone.

Tim is weird, different than any other teen hero he has met as of yet, brighter than any other.

He guesses it’s his hormones talking but he can’t help himself.

Superman approves of their friendship, that’s a given. He likes the influence Batman’s stoic companion has on him. How Tim grounds him.

As if he needs any more grounding under Superman’s oppressing presence.

“… And we are all pandas,” Tim continues, undaunted. “Pink Pandas.”

Kon blinks, shocked.

“What?” he asks.

Tim smiles, all shyness and sweet.

“You weren’t listening to a word I said, were you?” he asks back, tilting his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, feeling heat rising to his cheeks.

“It’s okay,” Tim replies after a while, his fingers once more dancing over his computer. Kon feels his own smile curling his mouth at the simple dismissal. That’s the great thing about his Rob. He doesn’t have to be perfect for him. He doesn’t have to follow Superman’s steps when he is with him. He can just be Kon and that’s fine with Tim.

He wonders if this is what it feels to be in love.

“As I was saying,” Tim says. “Most likely the pigmentation of your eyes is not a coincidence, considering the way you were created, but it’s still amazing how Luthor managed to mix his own eye-color and Superman’s in such a way, maybe he wanted you to keep a part of him despite your superior Kryptonian DNA?”

“So in normal humans, eye coloring happens at random?” Kon asks, if only to have Tim keep talking. His voice is so soft and so rarely used that to hear it makes him feel privileged. As if he is the owner of a precious treasure.

“I would guess so, I mean,” Tim sighs. “I don’t have my mother’s eyes but I have all the rest of her features.”

Kon blinks once more.

“Your eyes are your dad’s?”

“I guess,” Tim nods. “I never knew the guy.”

Silence envelops them for a few minutes, interrupted periodically by the clicks of the keys under Tim’s hands.

“Not even a picture?” Kon has to ask, because du’h, even Clark has pictures of his dead parents. It’s odd that Tim doesn’t.

“Mom burnt them after he disappeared,” he comments. “Or so she says.”

“You never wondered what happened to him?” And now Kon is curious and yes, his curiosity is his one weakness – other than Tim himself and since this two are usually related he could consider it to be only one weakness, right? – which means this new mystery is something he doesn’t think he wants to let go of.

Tim runs a hand through his dark hair, his cheeks flushing.

“I did, once,” he admits, shaking his head. “I even tried to hack the police mainframe before I came to live with Batman. There was nothing.”

Kon frowns.

“But now you have access to the League’s database,” he pushes, slowly approaching the smaller boy, basking in his presence.

Tim eyes him, nervous.

“I wouldn’t want to presume,” he whispers. “That information is classified.”

There is something so incredibly vulnerable in his best friend’s face. Something so easily exposed, that Kon feels bad for him and empowered at the same time. He wants Tim’s happiness above all, he wants him to have his peace.

He knows the rift between Tim and his mom hurts him, the same it hurts Kon when Superman refuses to look at him in the eye.

Maybe if they found what happened to Mr. Drake…

He grins.

“Let’s do it,” he prompts, his hand landing on Tim’s, their fingers entwining. “Let’s find your dad.”

“Kon…”

“Trust me,” the clone urges. “I will protect you.”

Tim’s lower lip trembles for a moment, his eyes watery now that his mask is off.

His thin arms wrap around Kon’s waist, his face hiding against his chest as he whispers his thanks over and over.

Kon wraps his own strong arms around Tim, trying to warm his perpetually cold body, to still his trembling frame with his strength.

He never notices Tim’s conniving smile.

**_‘My only regret in life, my son, is that we could never make this world a safe place for you to live. That if I am dead is because the tyrants caught us and we couldn’t bring them down. We couldn’t take the world from the hands of those monsters… I’m sorry I won’t be able to see you grow into the graceful young man I can picture when I close my eyes, to see you bloom under a free sun and laugh free of worries as you find your first love, your first kiss, your own happiness.’_ **

“The children are going to infiltrate the hospital tonight,” Slade whispers, his eyes roaming over the console of his own computer.

“I know,” Arachne whispers back, her cold blue eyes set on the lines of code that fly through the screen. “Our insider is hacking his way into their mainframe as we speak.”

“You knew this was going to happen,” Slade says, turning to the statuesque woman standing behind his chair.

Arachne simply turns to another man silently smoking behind them.

“Alert Al Ghul that the children will need some protection if they are to enter the perimeter,” she orders, her lips barely moving. The young man stares at her, his teal-colored eyes narrowed as he regards her.

“You really think he can do it?” he asks. “You are underestimating the Bat.”

“And you are overestimating your former mentor, Hood,” the woman hisses coldly. “Just tell Al Ghul that if he wants to avenge his daughter, he needs to move now.”

Red Hood shrugs his shoulders, his hands raising in defeat, his eyes full of uncertainty at the gamble they are all playing.

To build an army from the inside of the Lord’s Lair is dangerous and could get them all killed – this time for real – he knows there will be no mercy for those who stand between Bruce and his goal.

He has learned the hard way.

“Whatever you say, Spider,” he says, typing his message to the Demon’s Head. “It’s on your head.”

Slade watches the young man leave, his frown deep.

“Spider…” he repeats.

Arachne tightens her hold on the small, silver snowflake caressing her collarbone, her hold tight.

“He will walk under a free sky,” she whispers to herself, her cold eyes once more back to the screen.

**_‘Just know in your heart that I love you, Timmy. My life was complete because you and your mother were in it. And every breath I take will be used to thank the heavens I was able to have you both with me until the end. I love you, son, I love you so much. Please live and bloom and never, ever feel regret that I am not there with you. Just think I died fighting for your freedom. My Tim, my little baby miracle, my own unique snowflake, please remember me fondly. – Your father.’_ **

Kon enters Tim’s room with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, only to find him cleaning his white cape.

“There is a riot in Star City,” he says, unable to contain his excitement. “The League of Shadows seems to be moving in.”

Tim looks back with confusion, his nose wrinkled adorably as he tries to see the point.

“So?” he asks finally, finding himself at a loss.

“So?” Kon asks back. “It means most League members will be busy for a full day, Tim! We have a wide berth now!”

“Wide…” Tim repeats, blinking.

“We can follow the trail!” Kon insists, floating in place with enthusiasm. “We can follow the paper trial to your dad and be back before the League even finds out we are gone!”

“That’s too dangerous!” Red Robin protests immediately, his eyes wide. “I can’t possibly ask you to…”

“That’s why I’m offering!” the clone argues back, his hands sizing Tim’s. “Don’t you wanna know? Don’t you think we should…”

“But…”

“You can hack the system, leave the cameras and audio feed on a loop, you’ve done it before…” Kon continues.

“But that was the old LexCorp mainframe, this is League technology!” Tim protests. “Kon I can’t put you in that sort of danger! If Superman were to find out…”

Kon’s hands tighten against Tim’s.

“If you don’t come with me I’ll go alone, if only to bring you peace of mind,” he swears, eyes narrowed, determined.

Tim locks their gazes, insecure.

“You wouldn’t…” he tries.

“I would, I will,” Kon insists.

Finally, after much deliberation, the smaller teen’s shoulders slump, his teeth sink onto his bottom lip.

“Give me five minutes to start the loop,” he whispers, all small voice and insecure movements.

Kon preens, already reaching for Tim’s equipment.

Tim turns to his computer, his left hand going to his neck, were a small, silver snowflake hangs over his chest.

Inside, his father’s last words of love are kept for all time. His last message of faith and hope.

He will undermine the League and bring it down from the inside.

He will form an army only loyal to himself and his pain.

He will take them all, leave no prisoners.

His mother will walk under a free sky one day.

His father would have wanted it. 


End file.
